


Distress

by spicystrawberries



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Distressed family, FLUFF EVENTUALLY, Family Feels, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, M/M, Medical Procedures, Minor Character Death, No Uchiha Massacre, They all just love Itachi so much it's physically painful, description of illness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 21:58:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17989253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicystrawberries/pseuds/spicystrawberries
Summary: No one had felt alarmed when the first symptoms had appeared.They should have.





	Distress

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is kinda a prequel of my other story "No Spoonful of Sugar". That one is mostly fluff. This one has bits of angst. And this was suggested by the lovely users Soulkana and Tius (: I hope they like it! I want to mention that, in my defense, angst is not my area of speciality, but I tried my best! I really liked this idea so I wanted to try and make it work.
> 
> There will obviously be fluff at some point, because I'm a fluff person.
> 
> I apologize about the grammatical mistakes. If you feel like pointing them out, please do! It helps me to improve.

It had started with Izumi’s death, two years ago.

 

Shisui hadn’t known back then, though. No one had.

That’s why he hadn’t given it much thought when he’d felt Itachi’s skin burning against his own the night after the funeral, as Itachi muffled his sobs against his collarbone. Shisui’d been much more concerned about the violent way in which Itachi’s shoulders heaved under the weight of suppressed grief than about the fact he'd probably caught a could.

It made sense that Itachi would get sick after the fatidic days he’d spent dragging himself and what was left of his team back to Konoha. Days without shedding a single tear, forcing his mourning down his throat. Days with no sleep at all and almost no food. Even the most skilled shinobi were only human and had limits, and Itachi’d evidently reached his. That was all. There was nothing to be worried about.

Shisui’d lost his dearest friend not that long before Itachi’d lost Izumi and therefore was well acquainted with the mourning process, so he hadn’t been surprised by Itachi’s fitful sleep either. However, he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t felt slightly distressed when the soft moans leaving Itachi’s mouth had suddenly evolved into _screams._

He’d then spent the next hours tending to Itachi’s searing fever, whispering sweet nothings against his temple, placing feather light kisses on his eyelids to try and soothe the delirious anxieties unleashed by his overheated mind. Shisui should have known then. He should have felt alarmed by the whistling in Itachi’s chest, by the shortness of his breath.

But he hadn’t.

And the clan doctors hadn’t either, when they’d examined Itachi the next day. None of them had done as much as blink twice at Itachi. They’d all assumed that Itachi’s abruptly delicate health was only an aftermath of the traumatic event, and that he all he needed was to get proper rest.  

It made sense that he’d have a compromised immune system so soon after awakening his Mangekyō Sharingan, and after the heavy use he’d made of his Infinite Tsukuyomi to torture Izumi’s killers. It was only a small consequence, non-life-threatening, and it only meant that Itachi’d be more vulnerable to some minor illnesses for some time.

For the first time, Fugaku Uchiha had had enough sensibility to abstain himself from proclaiming out loud how proud he was of Itachi’s most recent _accomplishments_. And Shisui couldn’t have been more grateful for that, because it was obvious that Itachi’s own thoughts on his new technique were far from positive.

The doctors had prescribed Itachi an entire month of rest, only as a precaution, along with a long list of medicines and strict orders not to strain himself until he was allowed to be back on duty. They’d also given him shots of vitamins to avoid the nutritional problems shinobi usually went through while grieving, and it was good they’d done that because Itachi had barely eaten the following days.

Just as expected, Itachi’d fallen sick another two times in the next two weeks. But by the third he’d been back on his feet, eating as much as usual and demanding for anyone who was available to spar with him to help him get back into shape. The sadness had been still heavy in his eyes, but it was overshadowed by the determined fierceness to protect the loved ones he still had left.

Things had been still okay.

 

Itachi’s health had improved a little the following months, but he’d still caught colds with a frequency that should have made someone suspect something was amiss. But, instead, the doctors had only advised Itachi’s parents to be stricter at making sure he was eating well and getting enough sleep. His fevers and coughing fits weren’t interfering with his missions, after all, and there was no need to make a fuss out if they boy was still managing to perform his duties satisfactorily.

They’d all been so stupid. Shisui couldn’t believe he hadn’t felt outraged all at by the clan doctors’ obvious negligence. But he hadn’t been any better than them, he’d also encouraged Itachi to keep giving the best of him. He’d showed admiration when instead he should have reprimanded him for the way he was constantly pushing forward against his body’s boundaries.

He could remember only one time when he’d openly expressed his disapproval towards Itachi unacceptable behavior. It’d been after he’d noticed that Itachi’s cough had become sort of something chronic, that wouldn’t go away, and that it was starting to be painful if the way Itachi winced slightly after every fit was anything to go by.

“You should go to the village’s hospital. I’m taking you tomorrow. You have the morning free, right?”

Itachi’d raised his eyebrows petulantly, which he always did when he wasn’t pleased with the direction the conversation was taking. That hadn’t stopped Shisui, though.

“Don’t look at me like that. How much has this last cold lasted? Two weeks?”

“I promised Sasuke I’d train with him tomorrow,” Itachi had said, without blinking once. “I’m already taking medicine. The doctors warned me this infection would last a little longer. It’s nothing to be worried about.”

“Oh, taking medicine?” Shisui had repeated, raising both eyebrows, imitating Itachi’s presumptuous tone. “That’s funny. I haven’t seen you take anything in all day.”

Itachi’d paled, only momentarily, but then he’d regained his prideful glare.

“I’m the one who knows when to take it.”

Shisui’d understood immediately that Itachi’d forgotten to take that day’s dose.

But he’d still chosen to stay quiet.

He hadn’t wanted to start a fight with Itachi. He’d only given him his most disapproving look and tugged at this ponytail a little harder than he usually did, but still with fondness. After all, that’d happened around the time in which he’d started to notice that Itachi’s gaze would linger on him when he thought he wasn’t looking. He hadn’t wanted to ruin that by becoming an overbearing mother hen. That wasn’t attractive. He’d wanted Itachi to think he was handsome, not annoying.

He’d been an idiot.

 

Itachi’s coughing had become practically part of him by the time Shisui’d succeeded into courting him. The announcement of their relationship hadn’t taken anyone by surprise. If anything, it’d kind of offended Mikoto to find out that they hadn’t been in a serious relationship before. Apparently, repeatedly kissing someone’s forehead and cheeks in public when they aren’t even family wasn’t something _only friends_ did. Shisui’d been only slightly confused to learn that.

Fugaku hadn’t been offended. He’d been _furious._

At that time his clan leader hadn’t been spending much time at home, he had been too busy at work and some nights he wouldn’t even be able to see his sons before leaving again the next morning. But Shisui hadn’t missed the piercing glares that would be directed at him when he happened to walk by the Military Police’s building. They’d make him shudder.

Having assured Itachi’s heart for himself also came with privileges. Shisui hadn’t hesitated anymore about going full overbearing boyfriend mode on him after that. From then, every time Itachi’d caught another illness, Shisui’d made a list of all the pills he’d have to take and carefully built a schedule for Itachi to follow. He’d also started to force honey and ginger tea down his throat every morning, and to feed him as many proper meals as he could sneak between his trainings and missions.

There hadn’t been a way to know if Itachi was always following his medicine schedule properly, though. Especially when he was out in a mission. And Shisui should have known better, he should have been a more stubborn on insisting he visited the village’s hospital. But, since Itachi’d started to get a little better after that, coughing less awful and less colds in the following months, Shisui hadn’t bothered him on the matter any further.

He should have.

 

Almost a year later, everything went down.

 

Shisui didn’t have words to describe the look in his clan head’s eyes.

He’d seen Fugaku Uchiha in many situations that’d make a lesser man drop to their knees and beg for mercy. He’d seen him committing cold-blooded murder, even after he’d had to make his way around the corpses of his precious comrades in times of war. He’d also seen him mourn in silence, managing to stay tall and proud to hold the grief-stricken members of his clan when they crumbled against him after learning any of their relatives had died.

And through all of that, Shisui hadn’t ever seen him do much more than press his lips tightly.

That night, however, there was no mistake about what was in Fugaku’s eyes. Genuine terror. The _bad_ kind of it. The one that forced you motionless, that made your limbs feel heavy with dread, that condemned you to immediate _death_ in the battlefield. Not even the presence of the rest of the clan seemed to be enough to make him immediately snap out of it. He only contemplated the scene in front of him for almost half a minute, eyes wide open, lips slightly parted.

He contemplated as his eldest son’s figure convulsed in front of him, suffering the devastating effects of oxygen deprivation. As he desperately tried to pull air inside of his lungs, but kept choking on his own blood, hand clutching at his chest and face contorted into the tense lines of _unbearable_ _agony_. His body kept heaving as the coughs brought up more and more blood, _bright red_ blood. Not blood-stained saliva. _Only blood_ , that dripped from his chin, that was starting to pool in the floor.

Shisui couldn’t move fast enough. His family’s place in the clan meetings was too far from the main family’s one, and everyone was in shock. The stupid clan doctors included. Shisui had to shove them away so he could make his way through the multitude of people sitting in front of him, yelling for them to _do something_ , hands shaking too much and heart beating too fast as to even dream of performing a seal to get there sooner.

Itachi’d just arrived from a mission that night. Shisui hadn’t heard the details, but it’d gone _wrong._ Wrong enough to force him to fully use the Infinite Tsukuyomi once again, after two years. But he’d confronted Itachi before the meeting had started, and he’d been just _fine._ Running a fever, sure, but by that point that was just almost normal in him. Shisui’d planned on taking him straight to the doctors as soon as the meeting was over. So, _why?_

When he’d finally made it to the front row, Fugaku’d finally recovered from shock. He’d finally managed to school his face into his usual imperturbable expression, but he was still deathly pale, and his hands still trembled as he forced Itachi to double over and delivered firm blows to his back, making him spit out the blood in his mouth. It took around ten of them for Itachi to finally be able to take in a deep breath, and his features drowned in relief, but then he passed out in his father’s arms in the next second.

The coughing stopped, but there was a very audible rattling coming from Itachi’s chest that couldn’t mean anything good, and his lips were turning blue.

“Meeting is over,” Fugaku informed, somehow managing not to have a trembling voice. Then he slipped one of Itachi’s arms around his shoulders and wrapped his arm around Itachi’s waist to hoist him up. Itachi’s head lolled on his father’s shoulder. He looked like a ragged doll. “I’ll schedule another one this week to further discuss the matter on hands. You are free to go.”

Mikoto, looking just as sick but composed as her husband, hurriedly stood up and went to Fugaku’s side. They exchanged some heated whispers, while Mikoto gingerly caressed Itachi’s face and weakly shook her head no for herself, as if disapproving of herself. Fugaku put an end to it by taking her chin into his free hand and declaring something sternly. His eyes were soft for his wife, though.

The rest of the clan was fast to leave, probably because no one desired to deal with Fugaku’s wrath if they dared to stay and stare at his son in a funny way for a single second longer.

He heard Sasuke’s name, and then he couldn’t help intervening.

“I’ll take care of Sasuke,” Shisui said, against his own will, ignoring the pit in his stomach that formed at the mere thought of not _being with Itachi._ “Please, don’t worry about him. I’ll go to your house and try to explain him the situation as calmly as I can, so he won’t feel frightened. Then I’ll take him to the hospital. If that’s what you wish, of course.”

Fugaku’s glare, which had become just as fierce as before as soon as Shisui’s mouth had opened, softened once more. He exchanged a look with Mikoto, and after a few seconds of that silent conversation that only a married couple could have, he nodded at Shisui. Then, after noticing that there wasn’t anyone else in the room but them, he finally scooped Itachi up in his arms.

“Do that,” Fugaku said.

“Please, Shisui,” Mikoto added, forcing a small smile only for him. Shisui felt his chest tighten.

“I’ll be there soon, too,” He promised.

And then they both were gone.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why, but I really had a hard time writing this chapter. I had to write the beginning three times, in three different days before I got something that I finally liked. I guess that's because I was excited about this and didn't want to mess it up. I hope I didn't!
> 
> I am also very sorry I killed Izumi I swear I love her and I made myself sad but I needed to make Itachi sad and I couldn't think of someone else because I know she was one of Itachi's most important persons and I needed something traumatic so yes asdsassdedf


End file.
